The Nightmare That Is Marriage
by Black Sun Upon An Icy Sky
Summary: Arranged marriages always work out... or maybe not. When Rukia is faced with her impending marriage to the heir to Soul Society's throne she has already accepted losing her independence. That is, until she actually meets him.
1. The Samurai Wife

**The Nightmare That Is Marriage**

**-o-**

_**Marriage is a great institution, but I'm not ready for an institution yet.**_

_Mae West_

**-o-**

**First Anniversary: **_The Samurai Wife_

**-o-**

Kuchiki Rukia could only stare at her brother in utter shock and disbelief, the tea in front of her forgotten as she started to tremble in her seat, slowly processing the information he had just given her. "Wha... what did you just say, Nii-sama?"

The stoic Kuchiki took a long, slow sip from his own tea cup, staring at her with impassive gray eyes. "I said the elders and I have finally agreed on arranging your marriage. Be happy, the head of the royal family approached us and requested you as bride for his young son, you can be honored, Rukia."

"B-but... you _can't_-"

"We can and we have. Don't even think about starting a discussion. You are to meet the prince tomorrow at noon. Good bye, Rukia."

"But Nii-sama-"

"Good bye, Rukia."

The petite raven-head stood, still shell-shocked and angry. With a curt bow she turned on her heels, leaving her brother alone in the room.

Kuchiki Byakuya took another sip from his tea before turning towards the door opposite the one Rukia had taken only moments before. "Inform the king that the news have been delivered, and to tell his delinquent son to better behave himself tomorrow."

Behind the door, the servant quickly left the mansion, running off towards the quarters of the royal family, while they stayed in Seireitei.

Inside the Kuchiki house the gray-eyed man took another sip, thinking.

Should he really fear the king's son's reaction?

After all, Rukia could throw very annoying hissy fits.

Byakuya shrugged, and filled himself another cup of tea. Only time would tell.

**-o-**

Rukia stared blankly at the mirror, her arms outstretched as two maids fixed the formal and uncomfortable kimono on her body. It was made of dark green silk, the hem adorned by gold fabric and an eloquent, ruby rose pattern went up to her elbows and her hip, leaving her upper arms and her chest in only green and gold. Her feet were in green fabric shoes, and one of the maids fixed her hair in a high bun, as she had made it a habit of letting it grow after the Quincy war.

The woman winced when the maid put a heavy ornament made of silver and emeralds in her coiffed hair, the weight pulling at her hair, but she didn't complain, not even when the second maid stood in front of her and applied, in her opinion, too much make up on her pale face. Rukia blinked, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her skin was even paler now, courtesy to the thirty layers of creamy make up applied on her. The maid had put dark green eye shadow on her eye lids, but not as excessively as she had been with the rest of her face, the black eyeliner and mascara giving her eyes a sultry look. Her plumb lips shone with light pink lip gloss, her cheeks dusted with light pink as well. Rukia sighed. She looked like a doll.

And she just didn't do doll.

"Are you finally done?" The young Kuchiki couldn't hold back the annoyance in her voice, and the two maids quickly scrambled away, knowing she was _this_ close to breaking point. Rukia sighed and slowly walked towards the tall mirror before her, her right hand, dwarfed by the long sleeve, came up to rest on the smooth, cold surface. Her eyes quivered, but she suppressed her tears.

_So this is it?_

The woman staring back at her didn't resemble her in the slightest. She was faced with a perfect samurai wife, a trophy to be shown off in public. But she wasn't an accessory, she was a warrior. She was independent, strong and stubborn. How was she supposed to hide her entire personality for the rest of her life?

She blinked her purple eyes, and took a shaky breath.

_Is this really it?_

Her tiny hands balled into tight fists, and she grit her teeth, glaring at her fake reflection in the mirror. "Why me?"

"Rukia."

Her gaze shot up, her angry violet eyes meeting her brother's calm gray ones in the mirror. "It is time," he said simply, and Rukia swallowed thickly, turning around to follow him out of the room, about to seal her fate.

**-o-**

_"HOW CAN YOU JUST MARRY HER OFF TO SOME STRANGER?"_

_Abarai Renji's voice was furious, and for once in his life he did not care that the man in front of him could - and probably **would** - slice his throat clean open without breaking a sweat. Kuchiki Byakuya didn't blink as he stared at his second-in-command with impassive eyes, secretly impressed at his Fukutaichô's guts._

_Albeit not pleased._

_With a calm that was almost scary - scratch that, Renji thought, it definitely **was** scary - the clan leader put his quill on the desk, folding his hands in front of him slowly, and fixed him with a stare. "This arrangement was made for her **because** the groom is no stranger to her."_

_Red eyebrows met in a deep scowl, and he grit his teeth in anger. "What is that supposed to mean? Rukia isn't close enough to anybody to agree to an arranged marriage!"_

_Gray eyes regarded him suspiciously, thin lips forming a frown. "I have the inkling feeling you aren't asking out of concern for my sister, Abarai."_

_The older man took a secret pleasure in seeing the Shinigami's face turn just as red as his hair, the other's lips parting, as if to retort, but he closed them shut, turning on his heals and storming off towards the office door._

_"Abarai."_

_The man in question stopped, his right hand hovering at the side of the shoji door, about to rip it open and leave._

_"Do not meddle in affairs that do not concern you."_

**-o-**

As he had thought, the red-head hadn't dared to approach them again about the matter, even though Byakuya had the suspicion his lieutenant was somewhere off in Rukon, drinking. He shrugged, mentally. As long as this entire ordeal went over without incidents he could relax at the end of the day.

They stopped in front of a large mansion, larger even than the Kuchiki's, Rukia noted bitterly, and he stared at her, intently. "Are you ready?"

The young Shinigami held her head up high, her eyes determined and challenging as she stared at the huge estate. "Do I look like I'm not?"

With that she stepped past him, and pushed the front door of the mansion open, walking towards her golden cage.

**-o-**

The royal elder looked up from her conversation with her brother, golden eyes fixing on the door as were the rest of the assembled clan elders, six in total, awaiting the arrival of the two Kuchiki siblings. Kimiko, a woman having retained the appearance of a mid-fifty, with black hair streaked silver, frowned at the thought of the feisty noble woman. "I cannot see reason behind my nephew's choice. His son deserves better than that."

Her brother stared solemnly. "He will have thought about it carefully, Nee-san."

The black-haired woman huffed, her eyes defiant. "He never thinks _anything_ through, Aniki. He's just so _impulsive_."

"That runs in our family, Kimiko," spoke an elderly woman from the far corner of the room, the oldest living member of the clan. When she stepped from the shadows a shiver ran down the others back, as her eyes were nothing but white mirrors. She was blind. "I am sure he knows what is best for his son, don't you agree?"

The woman in front of her frowned, but bowed her head, angry. "Of course, Chiyo-sama."

In that moment the doors swung open, revealing one Kuchiki Rukia, glaring defiantly at the assembled clan elders. Behind her Kuchiki Byakuya stepped up, putting a calming, but at the same time warning, hand on her left shoulder, and the violet-eyed woman tensed, before letting out a tired sigh and relaxing, walking into the room with her brother close on her heels.

The blind elder, Chiyo, turned towards the petite woman, a smile on her aged face. "It is my pleasure, Rukia-san."

The Shinigami in question looked up at the old woman, not flinching upon meeting the blind, sightless eyes. "I am not okay with this."

Chiyo's smile didn't waver, and it started to unnerve Rukia. "Of course not."

"I won't become some trophy wife."

"I'm sure."

"I'm stubborn."

"I can imagine."

"That prince will have hell with me."

"Only serves him right."

Rukia's left eye twitched, and she was damn close to snapping at the woman, but refrained from doing so. Was this woman going to agree with everything she said? Before she could speak up again Chiyo stirred, turning her head slightly towards the small, closed door behind her, her smile widening.

No one in the room was prepared to hear a deep voice resonating throughout the chamber, furious and all-too-familiar.

_"Let go of me, goat chin! This is child abuse!"_

**-o-**

_This is some sort of art trade - does writing fall under art trade? - with my boyfriend, who in turn writes a mermaid!Ichigo fic for me. We brainstormed on this together, and we came up with quite a few, if I dare say so myself, interesting ideas, both fluffy and lemony! (Trust me, I **loved** making him blush!)_

_I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and if so, take the three seconds to leave a review, cuz they make me happy!_

_Before I get any complaints, this was mostly written before the stupid "twist" that Isshin is a Shiba and Masaki was Ryuken's cousin, and I refuse to acknowledge that stupid bullshit in my story._


	2. Father Knows Best - so Shut the Hell up!

**The Nightmare That is Marriage**

**-o-**

_**A marriage is always made up of two people who are prepared to swear that only the other one snores.**_

_Terry Pratchett_

**-o-**

**Second Anniversary: **_Father Knows Best - so Shut the Hell up!_

**-o-**

Amber eyes blinked slowly, uncomprehending. Kurosaki Isshin stared at his son expectantly but he only looked back at him blankly. "Run that by me again?"

And the black-haired Shinigami felt the unbelieving urge to slap his forehead. "I just told you that you are the heir to the throne of Soul Society, and all you can say is "run that by me again"?"

Kurosaki Ichigo scoffed, pinning him with a hard glare. "What do you expect? Me jumping around in joy? As if. Besides," and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring intently at his father. "You didn't tell me this for nothing, right?" When Isshin stayed silent Ichigo sat up straighter, glaring fiercely. "I'm right, aren't I?"

To the orange-head's surprise did the older man avert his gaze from his piercing stare, and sighed. "You see... since I refused to ascend the throne to take care of Yuzu and Karin... well... you are the next King, and the elders of our clan already arranged your marriage-"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

The furious orange-head sprung from his seat in the living room, glaring heatedly at his father. "As if I'd go through with that!"

To his later chagrin did Isshin anticipate that reaction. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that.

That is why in that moment Urahara Kisuke jumped up from behind the couch, syringe in hand, and injected the furious teen with a sedative.

Isn't fatherly love great?

**-o-**

When Kurosaki Ichigo awoke, his first instinct was to pummel his father.

His second was to go Hollow 2 point 0 and demolish Seireitei.

And his third was to puke.

He sat up, right hand flying to his mouth as his stomach churned with the aftereffects of Urahara's sedative. Not bothering to take in his surroundings or attire, ignoring the assembled people as well, the sick teen ran to the next door, hoping it was the restroom.

Thank god it was.

His head, currently bend over in the toilet, rose from his reconnaissance with his breakfast, turning around, tinted green, to glare weakly at his father. "You planned this, didn't you?"

Isshin shrugged, his grin never wavering. "Maybe not the... well, what you are doing there, but yes, pretty much."

Glare.

Glare.

Glare.

"Pervert."

The older man pouted at his son. "Why am I a pervert?" Amber eyes only indicated to his new attire, consisting of a navy blue formal male kimono, tied together with a black obi. The hem was equally black and, unbeknownst to the orange-head, was a black insignia on his back, showing his status. The Kurosaki grinned slyly, already moving to run out of the room. "I left that to Yoruichi, son."

He was out before Ichigo had the chance to get his bearings and kill him.

**-o-**

_"Let go of me, goat chin! This is child abuse!"_

His father had him by his arms, pushing him down the hallway towards the meeting room, smirking broadly. "Come on now, Ichigo, don't exaggerate! This will be fun!"

"You call getting married to a complete stranger _fun_? Are you stupid-"

Before he could finish the sentence did Isshin open the door and practically threw his son inside, disappearing as fast as his feet would carry him. The orange-head, not expecting this, thus landed on top of a very tiny _something_ knocking both of them over.

Kurosaki Ichigo blinked, groaning lightly as he brought his left hand, as the right was currently busy getting a grip on the floor boards, up to his forehead, rubbing the spot that had hit the ground, and closed his eyes, lightly pushing himself off the soft, little thing he had bumped into. And when he opened his eyes he was immediately met with... green? The green slowly morphed into purple, and he realized he had been staring at the closed eyelids of a woman.

Amber and violet blinked alike, staring at each other, not comprehending who the other was.

That is, for 30 seconds they didn't.

"YOU!"

**-o-**

They sat next to each other in absolute silence, arms crossed in front of their chests as the elders droned on about the terms of their, both shuddered, _union_, not daring to give each other the time of day.

This was just too fucked up. For the both of them.

About ten minutes into the meeting, however, Rukia couldn't stand it anymore.

"This is all your fault, Ichigo." There, plain and simple. Now she was happy.

But of course the strawberry wouldn't have that. "Eh? Where did _that_ come from, midget? If anything my stupid father is at fault here! Until this morning I didn't even know I'm a fucking _royal_ so don't you go around blaming me!" Speaking of which... where was the elder Kurosaki? Ichigo shook his head slightly. Whatever. "Besides, what's with all that war paint?"

Rukia stiffened, while Kimiko went on and on about their duty to "produce a male heir as soon as possible", and glared heatedly at the orange-head. "You know, Ichigo," she gave him an evil smirk. "A little bit of make up wouldn't hurt that thing you call face."

And on it went.

**-o-**

Kurosaki Kimiko stopped mid-sentence, her golden eyes wide as she stared at her nephew's son, practically screaming at his fiancée, who was yelling right back. Both were getting in each other's face, and the elder wouldn't have been surprised to find an electric current shooting between their eyes. "What the...? Were they even listening?"

"I doubt it," coughed her brother next to her, and she glared. "Not. Helping."

The eldest Kurosaki smiled lightly, having heard everything about their relationship by Isshin long ago, and walked towards them, slowly, and laid a calming hand on Ichigo's shoulder, who snapped his gaze towards her. "Ichigo, dear, show your fiancée some respect."

The orange-haired teen glared fiercily, first at the blind woman - knowing full well she couldn't see his glare worth shit - and then back towards the tiny woman currently sticking out her tongue towards him. "I'm the prince, dammit! I'll yell at my wife when I want to!"

At his words, a very tiny fist made contact with his jaw, and the young prince toppled over, blinking rapidly. Violet eyes stared murderously down at him as Kuchiki Rukia towered over him, her hands in tight fists and her reiatsu flaring around her. "YOUR WIFE?" she yelled at the tops of her lungs, before jumping on him, grabbing a fistful of his orange mane.

"I'LL SHOW YOU WHO THE FUCKING WIFE IN THIS RELATIONSHIP IS!"

After that, only a girlish scream was heard.

**-o-**

_I feel bad about these chapters being so short... but meh!_


	3. Red Ribbon

**The Nightmare That Is Marriage**

**-o-**

_**There's only one way to have a happy marriage and as soon as I learn what it is I'll get married again.**_

_Clint Eastwood_

**-o-**

**Third Anniversary: **_Red Ribbon_

**-o-**

_Three Weeks Later..._

Kuchiki Rukia found it to be an irony of life to find herself in front of a huge mirror yet again, surrounded by a horde of eager maids arranging her everything to suit the royal wedding - _her_ wedding - to be taking place in a mere three hours from now. The young woman sighed, tired of the past weeks and her busy schedule, anxious to get the wedding and the following reception over with quickly, only to balk at the realization of what was to come _after _the reception.

The consummation.

She gulped heavily at the thought of performing such an act with her best friend of all people, fuck the adage to "marry your best friend because it's easier to be comfortable with each other"! There was just no way for her to ever feel comfortable with Ichigo touching... her or... or... The young Kuchiki shuddered, appalled. No, there was just no way she could do this with him, and she really doubted he had other thoughts on that matter. Or maybe the orange-head hadn't even thought about the wedding night at all - or didn't dare to - since he was such a huge prude, but she shrugged that thought off. No use analyzing things dead at this point, anyways.

There was a knock behind her and she turned her head, much to the chagrin and rising protests of her maids, her translucent eyes fixing on the elaborate door. "Come on in." To her surprise an orange-haired teenage girl stepped into the dressing room, her gray eyes cast downwards and her slim hands clasped in front of her, her posture slouched. Delicate, black brows met between Rukia's eyes and her lips curved down. With a resolute tug she untangled herself from the maids, ignoring their shouts of protest, and waved them off. "Leave us alone. Now." The young women did so, reluctantly, and as soon as they left through the same door Inoue Orihime had come from, Rukia turned around in a swirl of lose fabric and hair.

A sad smile made its way on her red-painted lips, and the young woman tilted her head slightly, violet eyes resigned to their fate. "If you're here to congratulate me, Inoue, don't bother, really. This is just a formality," she lowered her head, her long bangs covering her eyes. "This is just an arrangement."

They were quiet for half a second, before Inoue gripped her fingers tighter, her voice shaking slightly. "Is there any way... you could get out of it, Kuchiki-san?"

The Shinigami in question stiffened momentarily, her cerulean eyes widening at the question, before she slowly raised her head, staring at the orange-head, flabbergasted. "W-wha... excuse me?"

Gray eyes steeled themselves, and Inoue frowned, marring her features. "You heard me, is there any way for you to get out of this?"

The bride blinked twice, her lips parting slightly, but then she got a grip on herself and frowned herself. "What has gotten into you to ask this _now_? Besides," her eyes dimmed again. "It's not like I haven't tried already." With that she turned around again, thinking the conversation to be over with, until the teenager spoke up again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I love him, Kuchiki-san."

The black-haired Shinigami's insides reeled, her entire body going stiff. She fisted her tiny hands, and her pearly-white teeth bit into her bottom lip painfully, as she stared at herself in the mirror, thankful Inoue had averted her own gaze to the side.

At first there was shock following the confession of the other woman, closely followed by sadness, brought by the situation at hand. But what followed, sent her reeling yet again.

Jealousy.

Why she felt this, she didn't know, and she didn't care. It had been such a long time, so many decades since she'd last felt the green-eyed monster residing in a dark cave inside her guts, that she didn't immediately recognize the feeling as what it actually was, but when she did, it scared her deeply.

She had no reason to feel jealous.

But Inoue had every right to be.

Rukia pushed the gnawing feeling aside quickly, as it was closely followed by another one, this time a feeling she deemed far more fitting for the situation at hand. Guilt.

Yes, she decided, guilt fitted the occasion far better, _her _situation better.

The bride bit her lips again, and with a heavy sigh and her heart thumping madly in her chest, she turned her head around, gazing at Inoue sadly. "I... I'm sorry, I really am. But please, just... just leave." She closed her eyes, turning her head back around.

A huge weight lifted off her shoulders when she heard the doors open and close.

**-o-**

Tears were streaming down her flushed pink cheeks as she ran down the hallway, away from the changing room, not giving her way a single gaze or thought.

All of this was just unfair to her, unfair and painful.

Why did her second-best-friend have to be married off to her one, true love?

Continuing to indulge in her self-pity she hid her eyes with her left hand, covering them, not daring to show anybody her broken form. Inadvertently, she covered her own view as well, promptly running into one Ishida Uryû, holding two cups of bowl. He gazed at her, worried, and bent down to her form on the ground, where she had fallen only seconds before. "Are you alright... Inoue-san?" He knew it was a stupid question, but his manners made him ask it anyways.

She only shook her head like a sulking child, hiding her tear-streaked face from his view. The black-haired Quincy smiled sadly, holding one of the drinks out to her. The orange-head sniffed, staring at the glass through her slightly-parted fingers, before gazing at him, confused. "Here, I'm sure you'll feel better after drinking a little."

Inoue sniffed again, wiping her face free of any remaining wetness, and smiled weakly up at him. "Thank you, Ishida-kun."

"No problem, Inoue-san."

Unbeknownst to both of them, had one joyous father spiked every single non-alcoholic beverage at the entire pre-wedding party with high percentage vodka.

**-o-**

Rukia was standing in front of the mirror, regarding herself and frowning at the overuse of make up the maids had applied on her. "War paint", as Ichigo would put it, the thought of which brought a small, almost invisible smile to her face. At least he knew how to make her feel better, even if he wasn't there. She sighed as she sat down on the small step stool in front of the reflecting surface, her head in her hands.

"How am I supposed to go through with this?"

The young Kuchiki's head jerked up when a loud bang resounded in the small yet elaborate dressing room, the door of which had been slammed into the wall, and a furious and flushed Inoue Orihime stood in the doorway, and even at the distance Rukia could smell the alcohol reeking off the young woman in waves.

The bride was flabbergasted, and just stared at the inebriated woman in shock, her gray eyes glazed over from booze. "I-Inoue... What are you-"

"You are horrible, Kuchiki-san."

Rukia took a step back, frowning. "W... what do you mean? Look, you're clearly drunk so just let me get someone to-"

"If you really were his friend, Kuchiki-san," the woman in question was impressed by her lack of slurring, staring at her unable to do anything. "If you really were his friend you wouldn't ruin his life like that."

Ignoring the fact she was put up to this just as much as he was, Rukia glared heatedly, the slight sting to her heart going by her with no further notice. "Well," she began, voice more hostile and aggressive than she had intended to. "What do you want me to do? Kill myself?"

It had been a rhetorical question by all means, so when Inoue responded, Rukia was surprised, and when she heard her response, she was shocked to the core. Later on, she'd blame it all on the teen's inebriation, but right then, she was only hurt.

"It'd be better for everyone if you did," with that she left, livid, leaving the young bride hurt and confused in the dressing room.

**-o-**

With a soft thud Kuchiki Rukia sat down on the low step stool once again, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook softly, tears running down her cheeks. She didn't care about her make up, or her attire at all, and she definitely didn't care about being the perfect samurai wife right then. All she wanted was to cry over her fucked-up life, as she felt everything around her crumble to pieces.

It wasn't until strong, large hands rested themselves on her fragile shoulders, did she look up, only to have her own violet eyes meet with soft amber irises, a sad smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Hey."

The young woman sniffed, and tried to wipe her tears away, only to have his huge hands encircle her small wrists, and he shook his head softly, reaching over to the make up table to get a few tissues. Returning his attention to her, he started to not only dry her moist cheeks, but to also remove her make up, which had been smeared all over her face, leaving colorful streaks.

The violet-eyed bride sniffed again, smiling slightly. "You know, the groom isn't supposed to see his bride before the wedding, baka."

Ichigo just gave a non-committal grunt, continuing his task. "I'm glad it's you."

Rukia jerked her head up, staring at him with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. The orange-head took the opportunity to wipe the blood-red lipstick off her plump lips. "What did you just say?"

"I'm glad it's you I'm going to marry, Rukia. I... I'm just glad to have you beside me in all this drama." The smile on his face became less sad, and now reached his eyes as well. They stared at each other for a while, during which Ichigo finished wiping away the rest of her make up.

He sighed playfully, ruffling her hair slightly, yet not enough to ruin her hairdo, and moved to stand up. "Just don't expect me to come and tend to your every whim whenever you cry, midget. This was a one-time thing." When the young groom had reached the second door of the room, the one through which he had watched the earlier ordeal and entered the room, he stopped, and looked back at Rukia over his shoulder. "Now I can go through with this."

The young Kuchiki - soon-to-be-Kurosaki - smiled as she knew what he didn't say out loud.

_Now I know we'll be alright._

**-o-**

The audience was chatting animatedly, waiting for the bride to be brought in as the groom sat idly in front of the priest, his eyes transfixed on the door through which his best friend was to be brought in by her brother-in-law. He gulped, nervous, as he averted his gaze to his knees, gripping his hands in tight fists. A murmuring went through the rows of assembled guests, and he slowly raised his gaze back towards the door, his breathe faltering.

He hadn't given her looks much consideration when he visited her earlier, consoling her after Inoue's drunken interlude, but now, with nothing else to focus on, he felt all air getting sucked out of his gut.

Her hair was made up in a traditional bun, and she had refrained from applying new make up, for which he was grateful. She looked stunning anyways. The basic layer of her kimono was snow white, the main cover a deep burgundy, patterned with golden lotus flowers, the hem a raven black. The obi of the kimono a deep black as well, threads of pure gold woven through the fabric.

Kuchiki Rukia looked stunning to him.

When she and her brother finally reached the high podium in front of the audience, Ichigo stood up, helping her sit down in the tight clothing, before bowing to Byakuya and sitting down himself. A murmur went through the rows of people as Rukia's unadulterated face registered in their minds.

"Insolence," whispered one of the Kurosaki elders, but quickly quieted down when Isshin threw her a heated glare. No one was going to insult his future daughter-in-law if he could help it.

As soon as Kuchiki Byakuya had taken his seat amongst the first row of the audience, the murmurs died down into hushed silence, as the two to-be-wed looked at each other, a kind of dread behind their neutral gazes only they themselves could fully fathom.

The geriatric priest cleared his throat, and two servants stepped up towards the podium, Sode no Shirayuki, in Shikai, carried by the one left of the audience, and Tensa Zangetsu carried by the one to their right. They held the swords high over their heads, towards the respective owners, and they took them without a second's hesitation. Ichigo and Rukia gripped their swords with their left hands, and without breaking their gaze, smoothly cut through the right palm of their counterpart, blood running down the blades and their wrists.

Tensa Zangetsu and Sode no Shirayuki were put in front of their bent knees, and in a swirl of hands and fabric did the two Shinigami press their cut palms together, the blood mingling as they intertwined their fingers. The priest bent down, a long blood red ribbon in his wrinkled, long fingers. With a speed betraying his age he bound their wrists and palms together tightly, the wounds meshing together with greater force now.

Something deep in their guts burned, shooting up their arms and into each others palm as their Reiatsu first mingled, then combined fully and the ribbon started to glow in an eerie light. In a burst of light and Reiatsu the ribbon split in half, wrapping around their wrists like a wedding band, merging with their skin.

They knew it'd stay there forever.

That knowledge didn't keep them from slightly gaping at the display, staring at their wrists, the cuts continuing to bleed.

The priest's voice, like old papyrus paper, reached their ears only through a thick veil, and it took both of them a while to grasp what he was saying. A faint blush marred their cheeks, and Ichigo gulped, scowling, as he reached for the back of Rukia's head with his left, unbleeding, hand. Breathing "The fuck, bride my ass," he tugged hard on Rukia's coiffed hair, smashing their lips together in a hard kiss, sending the crowd into an uproar.

**-o-**

_In case you are wondering, yes, this will just be mindless fluff, and the occasional mature chapter._


End file.
